I was making friends at this strange little hotchpotch church. Having fun. Finding strength.
As the crowd thinned, I managed to collar Dylan.
I filled him in on Sam, before bringing up my real reason for walking six miles cross-country on a freezing cold winter morning.
‘I wanted to say thanks, again, for last week.’
‘It’s cool. I accepted your thanks the first time.’ He grinned.
I crossed and uncrossed my arms, suddenly not quite sure where they were meant to go.
‘Did you miss the service last week, to be with Sam?’
His face went very still for a microsecond. Then he laughed. ‘I did. But we had a family service, and it was my turn to end up in the gunge tank again. I really didn’t mind missing that.’
‘But it’s your job.’
‘Taking care of people in crisis is also my job. Our family worker led the service that morning. Apparently, it all went smoothly. And Hester quite enjoyed getting gunged.’
‘Why didn’t you say something?’
Dylan looked at me, blue eyes serious now.
‘I wanted to help.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s what friends do. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to speak to that guy over there before he leaves.’
After a particularly gruelling choir practice – ‘Stop lolling! Use your diaphragm to breathe! Focus! If you can’t make me believe you actually care if I stand by you or not, there is no point entering this competition.’ – Rosa asked for another dress fitting.
‘I’ll text the bridesmaids and see when they’re free. When were you thinking?’
‘My goodness. When were you thinking? Are all brides in England like this? You don’t care about your dresses, not even your own dress! What about rest of plans? Cake? Flowers? Decorations for tables? Have you written invitations or will you be sending a text?’
‘Larissa has it all under control.’
‘What, she chooses and you say yes? Why don’t you care about your wedding, Faith? It less than six months away.’ Rosa shook her head in disbelief.
‘Last week, she phoned me about wedding favours. Did I want the heart soaps to read ‘Peregrine and Faith, love everlasting’, ‘Perry and Faith, to have and to hold’, or ‘Mr and Mrs Upperton, till death do us part’? How can I plan a wedding with someone who thinks there are people on this earth who would enjoy washing themselves with any of those options? It’s being married I’m bothered about, not getting married.’
‘So you been getting ready for becoming a wife? That’s good. What you been doing? Learning how to look after a man?’
‘No! Perry can take care of himself. I’ve been going to the marriage course here on Tuesday nights.’
‘Ah! So you and Perry learn together.’
‘Yes.’
Yes. When Perry finally turned up. Usually somewhere about halfway through the class. But to be honest, I didn’t think Perry was the one who was going to need help making this marriage work.
Saturday afternoon, my bridesmaids gathered. Marilyn brought Rosa and the dresses in her car: four dresses carefully folded in supermarket carrier bags and one zipped inside a professional, moth-resistant, polycotton dress cover.
‘Marilyn first,’ Rosa commanded. ‘You are causing me a lot of trouble with this personal trainer. I going to waste a lot of material if this continues.’
Marilyn stripped off her tunic and leggings, squirming. She quickly stepped into her dress. This time, no longer a sample, the fabric shone a deep-blue tulle, with delicately embroidered butterflies along the bottom third of the skirt in silver, bottle green and purple. Some of the butterflies looked as though they had broken free from the rest, and were flying up the skirt. Marilyn held the dress up while Rosa fastened the row of tiny buttons, in colours to match the butterflies. As it swished slightly, the dress shimmered, giving the impression the butterflies were flying.
‘A-may-zing,’ Natasha breathed. ‘Like, totally, utterly brilliant. It’s the most gorgeous dress I have ever seen. Better than anything at New York fashion week by miles. You look like a queen.’
‘Which queen?’ Marilyn tensed up, bracing herself.
‘A queen from a film about an amazing queen who is beautiful, and wise and strong and married to a gnarled old king obsessed with power who doesn’t see the real her, but then she meets a hunksome knight with humble beginnings who rescues her from a terrifying beast and at the start they, like, argue all the time because he thinks she’s dead proud. But really she’s just lonely and miserable, and she thinks he’s a rough brute with norespect for women. They fall in love, and the king dies so they’re free to be together. Only it’s too late. The knight has gone on a quest leading to certain death. But then she goes after him and?—’
